


Spoiled

by judarchan



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy Angst, Incest, Introspection, Kinda, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Violence, Sexual Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 00:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17012115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judarchan/pseuds/judarchan
Summary: His braid has gotten loose, his hair now a spill of ink on the plush pillows. A halo of darkness around his devastated face.





	Spoiled

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in less than 24 hours and I hate it. I'm so sorry guys. Don't kill me pls
> 
> Banana Fish has fucked me up REALLY badly, and this is my way of coping, I guess.  
> I'll write something happy for this fandom one day, I promise 
> 
> And I'm sorry Yut-Lung - you don't deserve any of this and I still love you ♥  
> 

................................................................................................

 

The silken bedspread is cool and smooth against Yut-Lung's damp cheek. It's a rich pearly grey, beautifully embroidered and ridiculously expensive.

He despises it.

He twists his fingers in the fine threading with a vicious grip, biting his lip until it splits against his teeth and he can taste blood on his tongue. It hurts, and Yut-Lung focuses on that instead of the sharp pain that's stabbing at his insides with every thrust of the man behind him. Over the years he's learned to stay still and quiet, to let his tears flow silently and will his body to be pliant. There's no other way, he reminds himself again and again.

Provoking his brothers only ever earned him more bruises.

Yut-Lung does manage not to move for a while, simply arching his back and spreading his legs further when commanded to do so by Wang-Lung's unkind hands. It's only when one of them makes its way around him and gets ahold of his braid that Yut-Lung loses his battle against his own willpower and cries out for the first time. It's a desperate, pitiful sound that doesn't quite make it past his throat as his brother tugs on his hair and chokes the air out of him. He thrashes purely out of instinct for a few moments, losing his balance on the slippery fabric when Wang-Lung pulls harder and snaps his hips forward with cruel precision. Smothered little gasps manage to escape his gaping mouth, but all his struggles cease when he faintly hears Wang-Lung's heartless chuckle. He can almost see the grin that's surely plastered on his face, the unabashed enjoyment in having such power over his life. He knows what the man is thinking about.

If he held on for a little while longer this time, if he put a little more strength in his grip, Yut-Lung would die.

What irony would it be. Strangled by his own hair and defiled by his own brother until the very end.

But Wang-Lung is more clever than that. His every abuse is calculated and always has been; he's always made sure not to hit him too hard or in too vulnerable places - he'd bruise him and make him bleed and hurt him in every possible way, but never beyond repair.

Yut-Lung hates him for that too. He isn't even worth the luxury of dying, it seems.

This is all mere entertainment, just another way to debase him and remind him that being used is the only thing he's good at.

Whether it be his body or his wit, he exists solely to be exploited by his brothers.

A fresh wave of tears wets his lashes, and tiny black specks are swimming in his vision now, blurring his unfocused eyes. Unable to fight and unable to draw breath, he slumps forward, his limbs heavy as he's rocked back and forth by Wang-Lung's unrelenting motions.

Something that has nothing to do with his burning lungs coils in his chest; something cruel and bitter that Yut-Lung knows all too well. It's the repulsive blend of resentment and longing.

If Wang-Lung keeps at it, he'll finally be free. He'd never be able to have the revenge that restrained him from taking his own life until now, he'd die at the hands of the one who least deserved the right, but he'd be _free_.

In death, he wouldn't even have reason to mourn what he never had, anyway.

He wars with himself as his mind loses focus, the innate will to survive striving to take over his desire to let go in a clash that leaves him nauseous.

But just like that, Yut-Lung's debate is shattered, and he can breathe again, heart pounding in his ears. He coughs and clutches his throat, barely feeling his brother's length slipping out of him. It takes him a few instants to sit up and squirm towards the head of the bed, gaze firmly cast down as he draws his knees under himself, still wheezing. Wang-Lung is quick to catch up to him though, and before long he's gripping his chin and forcing him to look up.

Yut-Lung's reddened eyes and bitten mouth make his brother's smile grow larger.

"It would be such a waste, would it not?" Wang-Lung states simply, as if reading his very thoughts. His grasp softens then, his fingers now caressing his cheek with mocking gentleness before inching lower to dance across his neck. Yut-Lung doesn't move as those same digits, so ruddy next to his almost sickly-pale complexion, come to rest atop of the dragon seal that's forever branded on his skin. It takes all the strength he has left in him not to flinch when his brother sneaks his other hand up his trembling thigh and leans in.

"Hua-Lung shouldn't take much longer. Let us finish what we started before he joins us." Wang-Lung says, a whisper away from his lips. He pulls away, all false kindness gone when he pushes Yut-Lung down to lie on his back. His braid has gotten loose, his hair now a spill of ink on the plush pillows. A halo of darkness around his devastated face.

 _Yes, let's_ , Yut-Lung thinks.

He doesn't even feel like crying anymore. The unexpected news of having to endure Hua-Lung as well tonight is enough of a blow to rid him of every emotion for the time being.

He looks without seeing as his brother takes place between his splayed thighs, stroking himself in a deliberate way and wetting his length anew with his own fluids. It's just another statement, Yut-Lung knows, for he is never granted the grace of any other lubrication.

Apparently, something in that sick, rotten mind of his must be telling him that making Yut-Lung suffer the additional pain of being taken dry is worth the discomfort he surely must feel.

The ache that shoots up his spine and spreads in his loins when Wang-Lung enters him again subsides quickly, he notices absently. He's already stretched enough not to feel but a twinge as he accommodates his girth and the harsh pace that soon follows. It doesn't take long for his brother's breath to become laboured this time, his hips stuttering some in the chase for his release. Yut-Lung averts his eyes, focusing on anything that's not the man's face and his rapt expression. He doesn't need further evidence of how much pleasure his body is giving him. But Wang-Lung isn't as lost as he seems, and he's swift to slow his rhythm and backhand Yut-Lung with enough force to make his ears ring.

"Do not dare defy me, boy." He grits out.

 _Right_.

Yut-Lung can't help the short, bitter laugh that escapes him when he meets Wang-Lung's gaze, and for the first time, he speaks.

"I know better." He can't recognise his own voice. It's a ragged and broken thing that matches his whole being perfectly.

He knows his brother doesn't like it when he starts showing dissent.

He doesn't like it when he isn't crying anymore.

Wang-Lung slaps him again, harder. Yut-Lung doesn't bother licking away the blood that's oozing from his lip - he lets it paint his chin in a thin trail as his brother resumes his pace. There's a hand on the back of his knee, driving his leg upwards so that Wang-Lung's thrusts can aim deeper, the man's face now buried in the black mess of his tangled hair. It takes no more than a few disconnected jolts of his hips for Yut-Lung to feel the wonted warmness fill him and a low moan sound next to his jaw.

The short moments in which Wang-Lung catches his breath are almost always what revolts him the most. Hearing him pant against his skin when he slips out of his body, the slickness of his semen gushing out of him and trickling down underneath his backside.

But it's over. For now. Yut-Lung releases a quiet sigh through his nose and brings his leg down, letting his knees rest against each other.

It's a short-lived respite though, because his brother is moving closer already, the transient bliss of his climax already replaced by a devious glint in his dark eyes. He flips him over easily, and Yut-Lung doesn't really know what to expect now. It wouldn't be unusual for Wang-Lung to have him more than once, but he's positive he can't be ready yet. He's but a man, after all.

 _Oh_ , he thinks when he feels him spread his buttocks and shove two fingers inside him.

His brother does like revelling in how easily his entrance gives in against the intrusion right after he's done, Yut-Lung's mind supplies.

Wang-Lung scissors his digits open before withdrawing them, running the pad of his index along his raw, tender rim and pushes them in again. The squelching his hand elicits is even more sickening than the burn and the feeling of being so open, and Yut-Lung's stomach churns. He fights against the bile that's rising in his throat, clenching his teeth until he hears his jawbone crack. He won't let his brother have this too. He's already given him too much tonight.

"This is what suits you best, Yut-Lung." Wang-Lung's tone is disgustingly satisfied when pulls out his fingers, and he turns around just in time to see the man wipe them carelessly on the coverlet. They leave red streaks in their wake.

And then his brother is getting up and fastening a lightweight velvet robe around himself. He walks leisurely towards the bedroom's double doors and speaks,

"There's a towel on the dresser. Clean yourself up if you wish, and wait for us. It shouldn't be long."

The doors are shut and Yut-Lung is alone.

He should be glad. He should treasure these precious minutes of privacy. And yet, he's barely present enough to gather the strength to move away from his spot near the head of the bed. He scoots until he doesn't feel wetness beneath him anymore.

For a while he just stays there, looking with a perverse fascination at the ruined bedspread, stained by his blood and his brother's pleasure. He's ranged every sentiment tonight, and yet he can't feel anything now. He's cold and empty and he doesn't know how he manages to stand and walk up to the vanity on his own two feet, how he doesn't collapse when he reaches down to wipe at his inner thighs.

It's nothing new and nothing he hasn't already faced countless times, he tries to reason.

He'll get through it like he always does.

When he straightens, Yut-Lung cannot dare to look into the intricately framed mirror that's right in front of him.

He knows what he'd see already.

Just a helpless boy, with teary eyes and a cut lip and a bruise around his throat.

 _This is what suits you best_.

 

Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to hell :)
> 
>  
> 
> \------------------------
> 
> [tumblr](http://www.judarchan.tumblr.com)   
>  [twitter](http://twitter.com/_judarchan_)


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